To Lose A Pirate
by Catmint
Summary: The game is finally up: Captain Jack Sparrow has been caught and sentenced, leaving Will Turner heartbroken. But just how deep did feelings run between the two?
1. Gilette's Victory

To Lose A Pirate

**Disclaimer:** all characters are Disney's, not mine, and ergo I make no money from this.

**A/N:** 'Twould appear that I am incapable of writing a PotC fic that does _not_ have liberal quantities of Will angst.

**A/N 2:** I have come to the conclusion that I have been reading entirely too many Jack/Will slash fics. This is the first slash fic that I have posted. Anyone who wishes to flame me will not merit a response. You have been warned here so do _not_ complain afterwards. Besides which, it is little more than suggested/implied. I do not write _anything _explicitly sexual.

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Chapter 1: Gilette's Victory

_"We have him in the cells." Lieutenant Gilette's face bore a smug, triumphant expression._

_"Have who?" Commodore James Norrington looked up from the report he was writing. Will and Elizabeth Turner, also present, exchanged anxious looks as they recognised the expression on Gilette's face._

_Gilette's face broke into an ecstatic grin. "Jack Sparrow, sir."_

_"I see." Norrington's face was impassive. "Where exactly is he?"_

_Gilette retained his triumphant smile. "In the cells **not** built by Turner, sir." He pointedly looked over at skilled blacksmith Will._

_"I shall pay him a visit later. His hanging shall be held as soon as I can arrange it. Thank you, Gilette." When Gilette made no move to leave, Norrington nodded at the door, his voice hardening with impatience. "**Thank you**, Gilette."_

_Gilette caught on and hurriedly departed. Norrington faced the Turners, his face taking on an apologetic expression. "I am sorry, but the law dictates that this is the course I must take."_

_"I know." Elizabeth's voice was tinged with sadness._

_"Can – can we see him?" asked Will, a hint of desperation in his voice, dark eyes earnestly pleading with Norrington._

_"Of course. I shall go down this evening. His hanging will be arranged for the day after tomorrow. That should give me enough time to do all the necessary work – and for you to see him."_

_Elizabeth stepped forward. "Thank you, James."_

_"I **am** sorry."_

_Will turned to go, the ultimate image of dejection; shoulders slumped, head hung low, eyes fixed on the floor. Elizabeth took his rough hand in hers and gently led him out of the room. They headed home, in silence on Will's part. Several times Elizabeth attempted to begin a conversation, but elicited no response from her husband. Eventually she gave up, but vowed to herself to keep a close eye on Will. Life had not treated him well, and he had lost most that he really cared about. Sometimes his bitterness and cynicism surprised and worried her. Losing Jack would be a bitter blow indeed. They both knew that there would be no heroic rescues this time. Jack would be too closely guarded in his cell, and she and Will would be carefully restrained should they attend the hanging. The end had finally come for Captain Jack Sparrow_

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_"Visitors for you, Sparrow." Gilette was curt, irritated. He turned to the guards. "I shall have you hanged yourselves if you allow anything undesirable to happen." That said, he departed._

_"Savvy?" put in the prisoner with a cheeky smirk. But his tone also bore hints of resignation and weariness. The pirate captain knew his fate. _

_The guard stepped forward and raised his weapon threateningly. Jack Sparrow raised his sun-browned hands in mocking surrender, backing off with his usual swaying gait. The weapon was lowered, though still aimed in Jack's direction._

_Will and Elizabeth emerged from the stone steps that descended into the dungeons where the cells were. Jack blinked, then assumed his most confident pose, a cocky grin on his sun-darkened face. Yet despite this outward image of what some would call arrogance, there was an air of defeat about the pirate that was wholly unfamiliar to his character, a hint of despair about his dark eyes._

_"Hello, Jack," said Elizabeth by way of greeting. She was a little awkward; after all, what did one say to a condemned man?_

_"Ah, we're reacquaintin' ourselves with each other, are we, Miss Swann?" Jack grinned at her, holding out his hand to her through the iron barrier that separated them._

_"It's Mrs. Turner now, Jack," Elizabeth informed him, a smile on her face as she glanced over to where Will stood. She faltered as she saw exactly how unhappy and despairing her husband was. His dark eyes met hers for the briefest of moments, full of pain and grief – and what, strangely, appeared to be shame – before he turned his head away, face tinged with pink. Elizabeth was confused; although Will showed his emotions easily around her, he had never seemed ashamed of doing so before._

_Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Somehow I thought it might be that by now. I believe congratulations are in order."_

_"Thank you," replied Elizabeth softly. "Jack – thank you. For what you did to save me, with Barbossa."_

_Jack shook his head, holding up a hand. "Don't yeh go thinkin' I did it for **you**, Elizabeth. I wanted me ship back, and if I saved you in the process, that was just an added benefit. It wasn't in me plan. Savvy?"_

_Elizabeth nodded, a sad smile on her face. "I know. I just – I wish it didn't have to end this way."_

_Jack's face reflected her expression, his eyes tinged with some sad emotion that Elizabeth was unable to identify. "Me too, love. But I'm a pirate; it goes with the territory. I squared with that a long time ago." He frowned, contemplation evident on his face. "Tell me one thing, though."_

_"What?"_

_He leaned in close to her and dropped his rough voice to a whisper, a strange glint in his eyes. "I never did understand why you burned all the rum." He winked at her, gold teeth glittering in the flickering torchlight, and withdrew._

_Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. "**Jack Sparrow**! You know perfectly **well **why I burned the rum! One, it is a vile drink that –"_

_"Yes, yes, **yes**!" Jack cut her off before she could start up on the anti-rum rant – **again**. He had had **quite** enough of it post-rum burning on that bloody island. "I was teasin' yeh."_

_Elizabeth stopped in her tracks. "Oh."_

_Jack smirked. "Elizabeth?"_

_"Yes?"_

_He fixed her with an earnest gaze. "Look after William for me."_

_Elizabeth frowned in confusion. "I'm his wife; why wouldn't I?"_

_"Just promise me that."_

_Sighing, and not really understanding, Elizabeth nonetheless nodded. "I promise, Jack."_

_"Good."_

_"I'll miss you."_

_Jack did not respond, instead nodding to Will. "I want to talk to William."_

_"Goodbye, Jack." Elizabeth turned to her husband and gently urged him over to Jack. "I'll see you at home," she said, sensing the need for pirate and blacksmith to have some time alone. She turned back only once before she left._

_Will had stepped close to Jack, fighting back tears. He had promised himself that he would not allow his emotions to take over, but already he was perilously close to it happening._

_Jack saw the unshed tears glistening in Will's eyes, the pain in those dark brown depths, and he felt tears rising inside himself. "William," he began hesitantly._

_Will raised his head to look at Jack properly. "What?"_

_Jack swallowed hard and had to fight to keep the tears from his voice. "Thanks, mate."_

_A (somewhat familiar to Jack) look of confusion crossed the blacksmith's face. "For – for what?"_

_Jack gestured vaguely from side to side with his head. "This 'n' that. Helpin' me get me _Pearl _back. An' – an' everything." He grinned in his usual cocky manner, unable to resist adding his trademark, "Savvy?" although this was a rather tremulous one._

_The last word was too much for Will and he choked on a sob, the tears spilling over and cascading down his cheeks. "Jack – I – I…"_

_Jack reached out and placed a rough, ring-adorned finger over Will's lips. "Enough o' that, William. Carry on like that and yeh'll make **me** cry as well." His voice was softly, kindly teasing._

_Will sniffled, attempting to wipe away the tears to no avail. "But – but you're going to **die** tomorrow…I – I should do something, get you out of here…" He broke off as Jack shook his head. "Jack? Why not? What's wrong?"_

_"Nothin's wrong, mate," replied Jack. His face took on a more serious, earnest expression. "William, I need you to understand this. I've made my peace. I know I'm goin' to die tomorrow mornin' and I'm ready for it. Occupational hazard of bein' a pirate. **I'm ready for this**." His voice took on a stern, yet still gentle, tone. "I don't want you to do **anythin'**. Hear me?"_

_Will's face clearly reflected his bewilderment. "Why, Jack? Why give up like this?"_

_"Because I would rather let Norrington over anyone else have the pleasure of seein' me hang. We've reached an understandin', him an' me. I don't want anyone else to oversee me death. Strange as it may sound, I trust him." He smiled wryly at Will's confusion. "Trust me, William. Just let me go."_

_"But Jack –"_

_"Enough, William. That's enough."_

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_Elizabeth and Will did not speak for the rest of the day. Both were too lost in memories of Jack. Memories of a friend. Elizabeth let Will be, yet still kept an eye on him from a distance. Tomorrow would be the biggest test._

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_It was just like the occasion of Jack's hanging-that-never-was. The crowds of people there for a morning's entertainment, the military men startlingly obvious in their red tunics (Murtogg and Mullroy were around somewhere), the upper class, the Governor, Gilette, Norrington, Elizabeth and Will. The same man reading out from a (long) scroll the list of Jack's crimes. Even what appeared to be the same hangman (although whether or not it **was** the same man was difficult to ascertain)._

_Will was fighting back the tears this time, not slipping in amongst the crowds. Jack had reiterated that he was ready to die, that he wanted no rescuing. It hurt far more than Will had imagined was possible. He swallowed hard and a moment later felt Elizabeth discreetly slip her hand into his and give it a gentle, comforting squeeze._

_The crowd fell silent; all crimes and the sentence had been delivered to them._

_The noose was placed around Jack's neck._

_It was tightened._

_Jack raised his head and met Will's eyes. His gaze, conveying every emotion towards the young blacksmith that he had ever felt, never faltered._

_The hangman pulled the trapdoor lever._

_Jack dropped._

_He hung there like a puppet with all save the head string cut. The crowd cheered._

_Will turned from the sight, unable to bear it any longer, and, tearing his hand from his wife's, stumbled down the steps, away from everyone. The tears were falling thick and fast now, and he knew not where he hurried, running blindly. All he knew was that he had to get away from there, away from what was no longer Jack. Away from the ones who had sentenced him and brought this fate upon him._

_"Will! **Will**!" Elizabeth was hot on his heels, running as fast as her high-heeled slippers and long dress would permit (she refused to wear a corset after her marriage to Will). Her voice rose to an almost-shriek. "**William Turner**!"_

_Will stopped in the middle of the empty street, swiping frantically – and uselessly – at his eyes before turning to face his wife. "What?"_

_Elizabeth caught up with him, breath coming in short gasps now from the running. "You left…without me."_

_"I needed to get away."_

_"Where did you…plan to…run to?"_

_Will shrugged, meeting her eyes, his expression one of despair and helplessness. "I don't know. Away…away from everything at the fort." He bit his lip hard._

_Elizabeth stepped forward and drew him into a tight embrace, easing his head down to rest on her shoulder, knowing instinctively that he did not want any others to see the tears he was unable to hold back. She felt his body shaking with the sobs and gently rocked him from side to side, making soothing noises, knowing that this was what he needed. Words were pointless at this moment; it was the love and comfort that he needed and that she could give._

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**TBC**


	2. Grief

To Lose A Pirate

**Disclaimer:** still not mine and still make no money from this!

Thankies for all the reviews!

Check out the Yahoo Movies page – there's now a trailer for Dead Man's Chest and it looks REALLY REALLY GOOD!

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Chapter 2: Grief

_(One year later)_

Will placed the finished sword in the rack with the other completed ones. Another one for Norrington's men. There was a regular need for new swords, and Will knew that Norrington trusted the quality of his workmanship over that of anyone else in Port Royal.

But that was little comfort to Will, following Jack's death. Nothing was the same any more, and he didn't know how he was still alive. Jack's murder (which was how he viewed the late pirate captain's hanging) had broken him completely and utterly. His entire being ached, felt unbearably heavy. He had no idea how he forced himself to get up and go to work every day. Every day was bleak, hopeless, pointless. Life held no meaning for Will now; Jack had introduced him to life beyond the social constraints of British society, shown him excitement, adventure, _freedom_. Jack had changed Will's life, and now he was gone. Gone forever.

"Will? Are you busy?"

Will stepped back from the rack and turned round to see Elizabeth standing by the main door to the smithy, a basket in her hand. He gave her a small half-hearted smile but made no move towards her. Elizabeth had grown used to Will's unresponsiveness since Jack's death, and it hurt her deeply to see him so. She put the basket down and went over to him, reaching out and brushing a lock of his curly dark hair out of his eyes, which reflected nothing but despair and pain. "I've brought you some lunch."

"You didn't need to," replied Will tiredly.

"Yes I did. You hardly eat."

Will shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"You need a break from work."

"I can't afford to, Elizabeth. We need the money and I don't want to rely on your father for anything if I can possibly help it."

Elizabeth smiled at this. She knew how determined Will was to prove to Governor Swann that allowing his daughter to marry a blacksmith had not been a serious social or financial mistake. "I'm sure one or two days will hardly have an effect on our finances –"

"It keeps my mind away from other thoughts," Will interrupted her abruptly, pulling away.

Elizabeth sobered. "Will, you have to move on. I know it's hard, but Jack is gone and he won't come back. At least you were able to say goodbye to him."

"It shouldn't have happened." Will's tone was short, curt, defensive. Elizabeth steeled herself; a defensive and angry Will was extremely difficult to deal with. She took his hand in hers and led him over to the basket. Picking up said basket, she gestured to the stone steps that were by the main door, in which Will had once embedded a sword to prevent Jack escaping the smithy. "_Sit_, William Turner."

Will stiffened and Elizabeth instantly regretted her words. Jack was the only one who had ever called him William; to everyone else he was Will, or Mr. Turner.

They sat down in silence and Elizabeth unpacked the food, guilt eating at her for the slip. To some it was but a small slip; to Will, it was everything. She watched him closely as he reluctantly took a small bite of the sandwich but ate no more, took in his slumped posture and his downcast eyes, the melancholy that was wrapped so tightly around his very soul. For Elizabeth, it was heartbreaking to see Will go from being full of life and happiness to this almost lifeless, despairing creature. It had been a year since Captain Jack Sparrow had departed this world, and Will had not even started to deal with the fact. Elizabeth resolved to broach the subject with him that evening.

She turned to him. "How was your morning?"

He shrugged. "Fine. The usual. Busy."

Elizabeth suppressed the urge to strangle him. "Would you care to elaborate a little more?"

"What is there to elaborate on?"

"I don't know. But there must be _something_, surely."

"There isn't."

"Oh." She was silent for a moment. "What _do_ you want to talk about?"

Another shrug.

So Elizabeth commenced remarking on the young ladies of the upper class and how Juliette Trevelyan had very publicly broken off her engagement to the son of a very important Member of Parliament. Will paid this little attention – high society bored him and he always felt extremely uncomfortable in such settings – but Elizabeth chattered on in a desperate attempt to fill what would otherwise be silence.

When it became clear that Will was not going to eat anything more, Elizabeth sighed and plucked the half-eaten sandwich from his grasp. "I'm going to leave you some food in case you get hungry this afternoon." _I should be so lucky_, she thought cynically.

"I won't."

"I shall leave it anyway."

"Fine." He stood up, Elizabeth taking this as her cue to leave, and went over to the fire, in which sat several partially-formed swords. He placed his hand over one – and hesitated. He had once taken a sword with a glowing tip from this fire when he had first encountered Jack. The grief hit him suddenly, painfully, and his breath caught in his throat, tears springing to his eyes at the memory. He missed Jack _so much_, would give up everything just to see him again, to spend time with him…

_**No**. Don't think of that,_ Will chastised himself, forcing back the thoughts that swam to the forefront of his memory. The pain of these memories was too much for him to bear. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, overwhelmed as memories of his first encounter with Captain Jack Sparrow came flooding back. The first exchange of words: _"You're the one they're hunting. The **pirate**." _And Jack's response: _"You look somewhat familiar; have I threatened you before?"_ It was only later that Jack had realised why Will looked so familiar, when the blacksmith had given the pirate his name.

He recalled the ensuing swordfight, himself flinging one sword into the door to prevent Jack from escaping, the acrobatic and almost dance-like movement around the smithy, Jack cheating and temporarily disabling him by sending sand into his face, and his now-dead master, Mr. Brown, knocking Jack unconscious with his empty bottle, and his own bitterness towards the man who had for so long taken credit for Will's work.

Recalled the adventure he had gone on a year later, when Elizabeth had been in England for six months, when Jack had swanned into Port Royal and 'borrowed with every intention of returning' him for various wild adventures, in which both Will and Jack had stared death in the face on multiple occasions. That had been the best time of Will's life, the time he had spent on the open seas on the _Black Pearl_ with Jack.

He forced the tears back, his pride refusing to permit them passage down his face. Much as he desperately longed to weep, he could not do so without being seen as weak. And that was one thing that William Turner, son of a pirate, could not afford to be. He longed for the pain, the weariness, the emptiness, to just go away. He couldn't remember what it was like to feel happy; that was long ago, in another lifetime. In a world where Jack was still alive, and vibrantly full of life. A world where Gilette was not strutting around Port Royal with a permanent, self-important smirk on his face despite Norrington's best attempts to counter it.

Eventually he forced himself to his feet and, forcing his emotions down, turned his focus to his work. He had done this so often that he was more than capable of doing it in his sleep, and his actions now were no more than automatic. He longed for the day to finish, so that he could return home and go to bed. Sleep was good.

When he could. There were nights – far too many to count – when sleep eluded him entirely. They were the worst nights, when all he was able to do was lie in bed and think about Jack.

He somehow managed to survive another day of work in the hot, steamy, smoky atmosphere of the smithy, remaining hard at work until Mrs. Robinson from the bakery hurried in from the twilit outside world, dusting flour from her hands onto her apron. "Mr. Turner, are you _ever _going to go 'ome to your Elizabeth? I'm sure she's wonderin' where you are."

Will glanced up from the horseshoe he was making and sighed, nodding as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "I should," he agreed. "Except I am sure she is all too aware of the dinner at her father's tonight that we are expected to attend."

Mrs. Robinson could not prevent a smile from forming on her round rosy face as she shook her head wryly. "Rather you than me. You don't want to go, I gather."

Will nodded his confirmation.

"You 'ave my sympathies. But be off with you now, or else your Elizabeth will be down 'ere draggin' you 'ome!" She extracted Will's tools from his hands, laid them down and grabbed his cloak from the hook, ushering him out of the door as she wrapped sad cloak around his shoulders. "Be off 'ome with you!"

"But the fire –"

"My 'usband will sort it out. _Home_!"

Will knew better than to argue, so he turned and slowly, wearily made his way home, spirits as low as ever. He was grateful for Mrs. Robinson; she looked after him. If his senses had not been dulled by the melancholy in which he was lost, he would have suspected Elizabeth having a hand in Mrs. Robinson's recently increased mothering of him (which she had).

Elizabeth was waiting in the doorway for him when he arrived at their home. Her face visibly creased with worry the moment he walked through the door. "We're not going to my father's tonight," she told him briskly.

Will slowly removed his cloak and hung it up. Even small tasks such as this seemed to require almost too much effort now. "We're not?"

"I sent a message to my father. I have a severe headache and you do not wish to leave my bedside because you are such a devoted husband."

"Oh. I see." He allowed his face to show his relief. He had been dreading this evening – all the aristocrats of Port Royal and the surrounding areas delighted in looking down on him and making it crystal clear that he was not acceptable as part of their social circle. Elizabeth hated it, almost more than Will himself, and, unlike her husband who preferred to slip away before his face could reveal his shame and hurt, made her opinions on their treatment of _her_ Will known and told the gathered others exactly what she thought of their attitudes – earning herself sharp rebukes from her father when they were alone.

"And you came in at just the right moment – Mary is just about to serve dinner."

Will sighed wearily. "I'm not hungry, Elizabeth. I just want to go to bed."

"Not before dinner. That's an order. And then after dinner, you and I are going to talk."

Will's stomach tightened form anxiety at the prospect; this talk that Elizabeth had probably spent most of the day rehearsing could not be good. "What about?" he asked nervously.

Elizabeth's face softened, taking on a sad expression as she reached out to cup Will's face in her delicate hand. He flinched involuntarily and she let her hand drop sadly. "Wait until dinner is over. In the meantime, try to eat _some_thing decent."

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**TBC**


	3. Confrontation, Admissions and Revelation

To Lose A Pirate

**Disclaimer:** we have already established that no characters featured in this story are mine and also that I make no money from this.

Thankies to all my wonderful reviewers! This is the last instalment of this fic.

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Chapter 3: Confrontation, Admissions and Revelations

The evening meal went far too quickly for Will. Yet again he struggled to eat much, though he tried his utmost as he was more than aware of Elizabeth's constant sharp gaze upon him. All too soon Ruthie came and cleared away the table. Governor Swann had insisted on the young couple having two servants – Mary the cook and Ruthie the maid. The Governor had wanted more, but Will had refused it.

Elizabeth rose and took Will by his rough hand. He stiffened, his meal threatening to reappear. This was it; she had realised that she had made a grave mistake in marrying him and desired to end their marriage for a man of a higher station than the lowly blacksmith that he was. Or else she could bear his melancholy no longer and felt that the only place for him was an asylum. Other similarly dreadful scenarios raced through his mind, and the serious expression on Elizabeth's face did nothing to quell these fears.

She led him to their bedroom and shut the door, ensuring Ruthie and Mary had tasks enough to occupy them for the time that she needed alone with Will. She leaned against her chest-of-drawers, wringing her hands, knowing not where to begin. Will regarded her anxiously from where he stood in the middle of the room, his eyes on the floor, unable to meet his wife's eyes.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "It has been a full year since Jack's death, Will."

Will's head snapped up, his face clearly showing that he had not expected this.

"Yet your mood would imply that it has been but a few days since it happened."

A small nod was the only outward response she provoked from Will. Inside, he was battling the tears of pain that threatened to overwhelm him. His heart had twisted with agony when Elizabeth had spoken Jack's name as the memories of the hanging came back to haunt him.

Elizabeth stepped up to him and gently lifted his chin with her fingers, though he would not meet her eyes with his, which glistened with unshed tears. "Will, do you think me reasonably intelligent?"

Will automatically raised his eyes to regard her in confusion. "Why did you change the subject?"

"Answer the question, Will," pleaded Elizabeth, her eyes searching his face, down which the first tears were beginning to slowly slip.

Will nodded. "I know you to be very much so."

"I know you too well, Will Turner – better than you do yourself." She took a deep breath. This was the moment she had been preparing herself for. "I know what happened while I was in England. When Jack came back to Port Royal, when you went off on the _Pearl_ with him."

Will's eyes widened. "Elizabeth, I –"

She cut him off by putting her finger gently to his lips. "Shhh, Will. Don't panic. It matters not. I saw you and Jack at the fort, the day before he died. When he was in the cell. I saw the way you were with each other."

Will's head dropped and he turned away, face burning with shame. "I – I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I – I should not have allowed such things to happen. I understand if you wish to end our marriage."

"_What_? Will, why on earth would I wish such a thing?"

"Because what I did was _wrong_! Wrong and unforgivable in the eyes of society and God!" He swallowed hard in a futile attempt to suppress the hot tears of shame that welled up inside. Why had he done it? Why had he not stopped himself in time? Why had he not thought about it before acting on his emotions and impulses?

He jumped when Elizabeth placed her hand on his shoulder and moved round so she was facing him. He could not bear to look at her; she must surely hate him.

"Will Turner, look at me," Elizabeth commanded softly. "_Look at me_."

He did so, uncertain and fearful of what he would see. He was unprepared for the love, understanding and kindness he saw there. "Do you hate me, Elizabeth?"

"Oh _Will_!" She reached up with her handkerchief and gently, lovingly wiped away the tearstains on his face. "I could never _hate_ you. Sometimes I get irritated with you, but that is natural and normal, and nothing to worry about. You are the man I love – always have done and always will."

"But what happened with Jack –"

"Do you honestly believe that that would make me love you any less?"

Will shrugged uncomfortably. "It should. You should hate me."

Elizabeth huffed in irritation. "Just because something _should_, it does not necessarily mean that it _will._"

Silence fell as each contemplated their next words. Will broke it. "What – what did you see in the cells?"

Elizabeth once again lifted his head so that his dark eyes met hers. "I saw your feelings for Jack. And his for you. I saw what you did."

Will's fingers involuntarily flew to his lips, his eyes wide in panic and fear. " Elizabeth! I – I – I'm sorry –"

"Shhhh. You needn't apologise for something you could not help." She gently lowered his fingers, encasing them in her own.

Will forced himself to look into his wife's eyes, expecting to see loathing, disgust, betrayal, revulsion, accusation and other such sentiments. Instead he found nothing but love, acceptance and concern. "But it's wrong… You and I both know it is."

"This is Captain Jack Sparrow of whom we speak, is it not?"

"It is…" Will was confused.

"He was hardly the most conventional of men."

"A little mildly put." Will gave Elizabeth a small, rueful smile.

"Just a little." She smiled back at him, lightly squeezing the hand of his that she held.

Will swallowed. "How – how long have you…?"

"I suspected a long time ago."

"And yet you said nothing!"

Elizabeth shook her head. "It was not important. Will, I know you loved him."

"As a sailor would love his captain –"

"As a man would love his wife," she gently interrupted.

"I would never –"

"William Turner, you loved Jack Sparrow as a man would love his wife. I know you did. And still do. And that it was reciprocated. I can see it in your eyes; denying it will only cause you more pain than you already feel!" cut in Elizabeth fiercely.

"I _can't_ have done, Elizabeth; it's unnatural! Wrong!"

"Will, _please_." Her face softened. "I _don't care_."

"I love _you_, Elizabeth!"

"I know you do. You loved Jack, and you love me. I know through a letter from Anamaria that you and Jack were close while I was in England – _extremely_ close – and she all but told me the details. What she did not write of directly, I guessed. Would you still deny it?"

Will slowly shook his head. "No. I – I can't. I would be lying if I did. But surely you should be condemning me to an asylum by now!"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I would _never _do such a thing! Will, I accept that you loved Jack. I accept whatever happened between you. If I did not I would have cut all ties with you for ever."

"Why?" Will was completely bewildered.

"Because I love you. I always have. I always will." She stepped forward and gathered him into her arms. This was too much for Will and he broke down in her firm, comforting embrace, finally allowing himself to release the pain, the guilt, the shame and above all the grief that he had bottled up inside himself for a year. His body shook with violent, desperate, heart-wrenching sobs, prompting Elizabeth to begin crying also as she held him, gently rocked him, comforted him. She held him tightly, soothing him, and eventually lowering him to the bed when he was on the verge of exhaustion-induced sleep, removing his shoes before drawing the covers over him and wiping away his tears. Then she got in beside him, kissing him goodnight and drawing his now-sleeping form into a fiercely protective hold. A huge weight of anxiety for Will had been lifted from her shoulders. In her heart she knew he would now be able to start coming to terms with Jack's death and also with his own feelings towards the pirate captain. For that she was deeply thankful.

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**end**


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